in the time before
by stonecraft
Summary: zeroambrose slashdubcon The orders of the Sorceress weren't followed right away.


Pacing the cell was foolish but sitting was impossible. He wondered when Azkadellia found time to build this particular prison, his mind already computing the logistics of iron and cable and labor and he had to shake his head to force himself to stop. His brain, once his greatest asset, now a dark instrument in his -- and the Zone's -- downfall.

_Damn you, Ambrose. More the Queen's fool than her advisor._

His poor Queen. His throat tightened at the thought of her gentle soul, of what Azkadellia might be doing to her now. Ambrose had a slight hope that the daughter might have enough natural feeling left not to commit matricide but as with all things, there was no guarantee of what the witch would or would not do if provoked.

He still had no idea of what they had planned for him.

Oh, he had a couple of ideas but surely, they weren't that mad. Or cruel. Or ...

Iron bars clanged open in the distance, followed by the sound of boots clapping against the metal floor. One of the witch's longcoats he thought, anxiously clutching at his own brocaded jacket. They'd left it on him, perhaps mockingly, but it was made of good material and better to have it than not in this cold, damp place.

The sound of footfalls grew closer. Terrified, Ambrose sat, then rose, then sat again. He tried to compose himself into something other than a frightened mess, to show some semblence of his former fortitude but without the Queen by his side, without the slightest hope of escape, it was nearly impossible.

How strange, he thought as the longcoat's shadow loomed by the cell door, he was supposed to have been her source of strength, not the other way around.

He'd failed her, in more ways than one.

_I'm so sorry, my Queen._

The grind of the cell door opening brought him back to reality. The longcoat standing there wasn't the one he'd been expecting, but in truth they were all the same at heart. Cruel servants of Azkadellia, each more bloodthirsty and ambitious than the last. This one, tall and blonde, with a wicked twist to his mouth was certainly no different.

What was his name again? Ambrose racked his brain. A strange name, like a number or a non-number or ...

Zero.

Yes, that was it. Zero, the General's lieutenant. The General who once swore his fealty unto the Queen and Ambrose's indignation fired again. His shoulders straightened involuntarily, the heat of anger filling his cheeks.

Bastards, all of them. Someday they'll pay. By the suns, someday.

As if in response, Zero's grin widened. "Lord Ambrose," he murmured with an insolent familiarity. "How are you enjoying your accommodations? Not quite as luxurious as you're used to, I'm sure."

"I'm fine, thank you." Ambrose swallowed past the lump in his throat. Even if they took his life, he could -- he _would_ -- keep his dignity.

Zero sauntered up to him, the black leather of his coat whispering against the tops of his boots. He bent down closely, until his face was directly in front of Ambrose's. "And how long do you think you're going to stay that way?"

He was so close Ambrose could smell him; a combination of gunpowder, spirits and sweat. Zero's eyes were slightly bloodshot; it was obvious he'd been drinking heavily, no doubt in celebration of Azkadellia's victory. "I have no idea," Ambrose replied hoarsely, unable to keep the shiver out of voice. "Hopefully ..."

"There is no hope," Zero interjected, sharp smile bright in the gloom. "That's the first thing you need to accept." Slowly, he ran a gloved finger along Ambrose's jaw. "That doesn't mean we can't have a little fun in the meantime."

Ambrose blinked, pulling back as the fingers grasping his chin tightened like a vise. "Fun?"

"Yes, fun. Do you know what that is, _my lord_?"

Mockingly, and Ambrose's temper flared, in spite of it all. "I thought I did, but why don't you tell me all about it? If you think your vocabulary is adequate, that is."

An echo of laughter thoughout the cell and Ambrose was kissed in reply, hard, Zero's lips and tongue bitter with spirits. With a shocked sound, Ambrose yanked his head back, knocking his skull against the cell wall for his trouble. Stars of pain surrounded him and Zero's mouth was crushed over his, gloved hands on Ambrose's shoulders, yanking at the brocaded coat.

To Ambrose's horror, desire flared in spite of the hatred and fear. He moaned as long fingers wandered over his shirt, pinching and caressing him, oh suns, right _there_. Awful, but the more he fought, the more he remembered where he was and that this might be the last touch he would ever receive.

Too bad it would be the first touch as well. Not exactly how he had always imagined it would be.

"Pretty." The word was growled against Ambrose's mouth. "It's too bad, really."

Ambrose wanted to ask what he meant, wanted to run, wanted Zero to touch him again and that's when shame burned as hotly as need. He arched up, ostensibly to escape and that was a mistake. Zero scrambled to splay out over him, his larger, longer body pinning Ambrose helplessly against the stone cot. The longcoat breathlessly forced himself atop Ambrose, hardness pressing hardness, making Ambrose cry out. "Please!"

He knew he was begging for something, but for what, he was no longer sure.

Zero was too busy to answer, biting along his jaw, his hands wrapped like leather bindings around Ambrose's wrists. There would be bruises, no doubt, but Ambrose had trouble thinking about the pain. What Zero was doing was wrong, terrifying and felt like nothing he'd ever experienced before both good and bad.

It touched a part of him that had been torn raw, made needy and if he were going to die anyway ...

"I used to look at you through the spyglass from across the lake," Zero laughed shakily against Ambrose's mouth, his hips ruthlessly grinding down. "Thinking about how I could just rip off that stupid coat, bend you over and ... ah yes ... take you until you screamed. Just so I could hear the sounds coming out of that pretty mouth." He nipped at Ambrose's lower lip. "I like your mouth. I want to take your mouth. Think I'll have time for that?" Ambrose gasped, making Zero laugh again. They both were close, and Zero's hands made quick work of the zippers separating them and he wrapped his large hand around them both, stroking in unison. "Maybe not now. Maybe we'll get another night, eh?"

Ambrose closed his eyes and let go. It felt like dying, like flying and he allowed himself to come, spilling over Zero's gloved fingers, his mouth a trembling circle.

Zero followed a few seconds later with a loud groan, collapsing heavily over him. They lay like that for a few moments, until Zero rose with a careless smirk. He pulled his zipper up slowly, his eyes raking over Ambrose with frank admiration. "I hope we get another night. Before ..." He paused and Ambrose wondered to see a flicker of regret flit through the ice blue eyes. "Fare you well, _my lord_."

Turning his face to the wall, Ambrose drew a shuddering breath. "Can't you at least tell me what they are going to do to me?"

A pause, and then ... "I can, but I won't. Consider that my gift to you."

Ambrose's heart froze. The cell door opened, slammed shut and Zero was gone, leaving a profound silence in his wake. Shaking, Ambrose closed his eyes and let his mind take over, soothing him with computations and thoughts of inventions he would never realize, but that was all right. As long as he could chose his thoughts ... as long as he could think straight and remember what he'd spent his life learning, it didn't matter what they did to him.

It wouldn't matter if Zero came back, as frightening -- as horribly inticing -- as that might be.

As long as he had his brain, it would all be all right.

0o0o

reviews are appreciated. thanks for reading.


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